


two is better than one, maybe.

by ohioinmymind



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Frottage, M/M, Other, Riding, Rimming, Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, ig incest should be tagged??? idk sorry, james payne doesn't really exist um he's liam's 'twin' so, this is just straight up porn man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 14:03:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1781680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohioinmymind/pseuds/ohioinmymind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The air is thinner up here in the clouds. </p>
<p>(or, payne twins/zayn threesome because the idea of zayn + two liam's is really, really hot.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	two is better than one, maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to write a back story but considering this was supposed to be a short smutty one-shot and it was 6K by the time I was done, I didn't want to risk writing a whole story bc you guys know I'm long-winded as hell. 
> 
> So basically, Liam and James Payne have fun with Zayn Malik, hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. Even though I generally hate writing sex scenes at all costs.

James gets to Zayn first, prowls on the bed with truculent eyes that spike the thud inside Zayn’s chest while he moulds himself into the pillows behind him. His thigh slides between both of Zayn’s, presses into him while he fits his hands around Zayn’s neck. His thumbs push up Zayn’s chin, make him look James in the eye.

“I’ve wanted to do this, fuck—” his hips stutter, and Zayn jerks smoothly, rolls his hips with the wave of pleasure that comes from having someone between your legs with two sets of clothing separating you. Delicious friction. “I’ve wanted to fuck you since Liam brought you home. Smiled real sweet, and then fucked you on the bathroom counter – that’s my brother. Nice until he’s not. Soft until you want him to be hard.”

His fingers whisper into the skin of Zayn’s stomach once he’s shucked his top up underneath his arms, too impatient, too busy kissing Zayn’s throat and spanning his hands towards Zayn’s clothed erection. Zayn forgets that this isn’t Liam, that he only looks and feels and sounds like Liam.

His head falls forward, crashes onto the plain of Zayn’s hipbones while he undoes the button on Zayn’s jeans and shoves them down with his boxers – just like Liam. His dick springs forward, comes out and lands on his belly, unsure if this turns him on or not.

“You’re going too fast, James.”

_That’s_ his Liam, Zayn knows. There’s a drop in register, just the slightest. James protests by putting his mouth around Zayn’s cock, suckling him until his mouth falls open in invitation for Liam to turn his head. When he presses himself against Zayn’s side, delves his fingertips into the hollows of Zayn’s cheeks and slips his tongue inside, that’s Liam. There’s no stuttering breath or fluttering hands, Liam knows Zayn’s body and likes to touch it, knows _how_ to touch. How to make him arch into James’ mouth and Liam’s lips simultaneously with a panted grunt.

The curtains are drawn; they do when it’s dark out, with one lamp on because they don’t want to expose themselves. Too much light is bad, Zayn likes the dark. Likes they way his eyes can open and close without transition. Likes how he can feel Liam and James more than he can really see them. Has to focus to make out the outline of James’ lips and Liam’s fingertips.

The air is thinner up here in the clouds.

“Breathe, Zayn,” Liam has pulled himself from Zayn, their eyes say all the things their mouth can’t. _I love you, I want this, and I’m okay._ His labored breaths slow, and James eases away, leaves Zayn wet and hot and exposed and they’re both sitting on their thighs, looking down at him. Zayn thinks it’s only fitting that he sees stars when he closes his eyes.

Liam holds his hand, falls down to kiss the inside of Zayn’s wrist. “Tell us what you want, Z. Tell us and we’ll do it. It’s for you, all this is for you.”

“This is for me,” James says, because that’s what makes them different, him and Liam.

They look the same, strikingly similar with birthmarks in different places, and differentiated temperaments. James is a star, shiny and sparkly but so so so far away, distant because when you see him he’s already gone – burnt up, explosive.

But if he’s the stars, then Liam is the moon, maybe the sun. Maybe both. An orbit of light, crucial for Zayn to live, the heat on his face. And at night, when no one’s looking and everyone else is asleep, Liam’s the moon – comes out at night with all the other things that make you shake in your bed. Only Zayn baits his breath for Liam’s lips because he long since stopped looking for monsters under his bed.

They bring Zayn back to Earth with travelling hands.

James sits alongside Zayn, moves him forward carefully when he and Liam share a look that Zayn doesn’t get to see, and he helps Zayn out of his top, moving it over his head. He stares at Zayn, and that’s where he sees it, the difference. Another soul lying in a body that looks like the man Zayn loves.

James is predatory in the way he bores into Zayn, caresses him with a darkness in his eyes that’s barely visible in this lighting. “You want both of us, yeah? ‘Cause I want you, and he wants you. Want me to fuck you and pretend it’s him, like two of him are filling you up and making you feel _so good?_ ”

Liam doesn’t talk beside him, busies himself with pulling Zayn’s jeans the rest of the way down his legs. Kissing his thigh and the back of his knees, then his ankles on the way down, Zayn lifts his body into Liam, wants more of the heat while James’ fingers prance up and down his side, waiting or a decision. Zayn feels like he’s falling, limbs numb and prickly with sensations all at once.

“Answer the question.” Liam hands are determined, head pillowed on Zayn’s stomach while he warms Zayn’s thighs and James expertly darts his fingers up and down the hollows of Zayn’s ribs. They don’t touch him where he wants it; kiss his neck and kneecaps but never his cock, never the bundles of nerves high on his chest, pebbled with anticipation. “We’ll give you whatever you want. I’ll give you the world, Zayn. He can leave and we’ll stay here.”

“Fuck you, man.”

“Fuck you, too.”

Zayn sighs, can’t take the breath on his leaking cock or the moving lips on the side of his neck. He speaks solely out of the need to prevent a collision. Both of them earn a caressing hand to wherever Zayn can reach; one he hopes conveys appreciation and desperate need. “ _Fuck me._ ”

They don’t need to say _okay_ , or _alright_. Because Liam’s stoking his cock then, hand stripping up and down, a strong bite to the line of his thigh whenever he tries to buck into the sensation. He lets himself - wouldn’t refuse if he could - be dragged into James’ lap. There’s a synchronicity in how they move, how Liam knows when to slide up the bed to continue touching Zayn when James settles him into his naked lap.

They’re in perfect orbit, a system of solar proportions.  

James catches Zayn’s ear, tugs on it harder than he should, makes it hurt _so good_ while he spans his hands over Zayn’s chest, finds one nipple with his hand and lets Liam lean up to take the other. “Gonna be a good boy, Zayn? Gonna let us make you scream?”

Zayn would roll his eyes if they weren’t already in the back of his head, he can’t _focus_ , can’t pick which to focus on. Liam’s hand is steady around him, pumping him and fielding each jerk of Zayn’s hips. But his mouth, fuck, fuck. _Fuck_ , his mouth. Zayn’s eyelids are heavy, hard to keep open, but he looks down, sees Liam looking back at him, lips red and swollen around one nub – sucking and licking and biting – while James pinches the other one, makes Zayn roll his hips right into Liam’s hand.

Mouth wet and raw, Zayn’s still canting Liam’s name while the both their hands in all the places that make him moan. He wants to do something, like yell into the sky he imagines over their heads, sees past the ceiling because he feels so elevated. With their hands on him, with both of them pouring their touch into the plains and creases of his skin, Zayn feels enlightened. He keeps himself quiet with bitten lips because he doesn’t know which gods to praise in the sky.

Liam fingers Zayn’s slit at the same time James uses slick fingers to pinch his nipple; while Liam gnashes his teeth around Zayn parallel to him, proves himself to be handy in separate tasks. It’s too much to be a coincidence, too well-timed, entirely too sensual to be anything but planned – practiced.

Zayn’s stomach tightens at the thought of someone sharing this space with them. Of Liam and James defying the taboo beliefs and sharing an angry kiss in bed while a stranger watches. Of Liam shutting James up, finally. James pulling Liam’s foreskin back, not worried about grace as he swallows him down, hums around his cock while Liam flexes above him. A shining body of mass, the heat bleeding into his skin until he’s glistening and helping James erupt – _supernova_.

“What are you thinking,” Liam pants, and his hand slows down until he stops, stopping Zayn from rutting into any other friction by holding his hips down, pinning him against James while they kiss him.

Both of them take one ear, one side of his neck, one shoulder – they dizzy him with the temptation to decide. Zayn’s hot, sticky with sweat and need; he can’t feel anything but everything. Hard screams bottle themselves in the throat that Liam is laving with his tongue and prodding with his teeth. “Tell me that you’re thinking, please. Talk to me, Zayn,” Liam begs, like he doesn’t hold all the power. Like Zayn’s not arching into the energy he holds in the lines oh his palms.

There’s worry there, fretting that Zayn just catches in the haze of being pressed between two bodies, forbidden to release with the pressure of symmetrical pressure on either side of him. Liam wants to know that Zayn won’t think less of him, won’t think this is weird or crossing the line. And really, Zayn just wants to come.

“You worry too much,” is all Zayn has to say to get a smile. His teeth dig into his lips, eyebrows creasing while they tease him with distant touches, forehead sweaty and his hair rucked. Zayn touches Liam’s face, tries to hold them in the same space for a moment, just them. “We’re having a – fuck, fuck, _Liam_ – threesome, and you’re worried I’m not gonna – shit – like it.”

“Liam hardly ever lets me assist in debauching his lovers,” James says, almost like he has a cue from Liam, they way they share a heated look that goes past the rivalry of siblings. Liam kisses down Zayn’s chest, but never takes his eyes away. Never stops burning a hole in Zayn’s chest, the magnified glass of his eyes make him squirm under the lens. He’s the sun, and he’s setting Zayn on fire.

“Oh, that turns you on? Knowing he let’s me in his bed? That’s how I knew, how I _knew_ I was gonna have you at least once. Brother showed you off all around town, fucked you in our apartment. Was just a matter of time.”

Zayn knows James, knows every word that comes out of his mouth is slippery, false hope - that he talks about fucking better than he actually fucks. That doesn’t mean he’s not setting Zayn aflame, though, just that he likes to get girls wet by saying things in their ear. Enjoys getting men hard by running his hands up their thighs and spinning stories into their shoulders. And when the time comes for follow through, they’re already mesmerized by his light, too stunned with gasping mouths to notice that James got what he wanted and left them to wonder.

But Liam doesn’t say anything, doesn’t call James a liar or tell Zayn to ignore all that he’s saying. He’s kissing up and down Zayn’s length, moving away away away when the muscles in Zayn’s stomach flex - when he knows Zayn could come. He doesn’t know what makes him harder, what makes him push himself farther into Liam’s mouth more – the teasing or the tales.

Zayn tries, in vain, to recalibrate the orbit, to move himself up and pull Liam back because it’s too good, _too much._ The spikes are too sharp and Zayn is too lost in the pretty lights that flash behind his eyelids. Too high, his voice is too high in his throat. “Liam- Liam, _please._ ”

He’s got the end of Zayn’s cock in his mouth, lips partially closed around the tip, red and pretty and absorbing the light so well with the milk of his skin. James holds Zayn in place, sews his fingers into the bones of his hips and they both whimper at Liam. They both shake, and Zayn wonders if James can feel it too, deep inside his chest. “You want me to stop?”

It’s evil, sinister how he asks knowing the answer. James’ grip isn’t strong enough to stop the cant of Zayn’s pelvis, the head of his dick moves farther past Liam’s lips, teeth pinching his as penance for the surprise. “No, no no. Don’t, Li. Just —”

“Touch you?”

Zayn nods, thinks that collapsing into the abyss won’t be so bad, tries to go there again. “Yes, touch me.”

“Brother knows what he’s doing.”

James buries his teeth into Zayn’s neck, and he’s so close. Zayn’s reached the edge and he could jump off, but he stays. Powered by innate levels of animosity towards anyone who has ever had the both of them. Zayn’s winding in James’ arms, pushing Liam away - weeping at the sight of swollen, wet lips stringing lines of spit from his cock – until James is pinned beneath him with a lazy grin that says _welcome to the party_.

Zayn’s back curves towards Liam’s hands, but he’s busy peeling away what’s left of his clothes, so Zayn performs. Tries to host a show to rival the moon and the stars.

“Stop fucking smiling at me,” and Zayn devours James’ smirk; kisses him until his face is hazy when Zayn opens his eyes. His kisses taste different—less like orange Gatorade and _home_ , more like cheap wine and tourist travels.

Zayn throws himself into it, lets James hold onto his shoulders and his back while Zayn stays hunched over his face, hands rough on his cheeks and his eyes closed _tight tight tight_. But Liam comes back, Zayn can feel him before it’s conclusive he’s there. Zayn’s body betrays his orders to stay here and let Liam’s eyes wander over the sight of him and James. Leads Zayn away immediately and twists his body, calls James an _imposter_ and fits into the lattice of Liam’s hold.

“I was wondering when you would come out and play,” Liam says, keeping Zayn in his twined position and speaking into the stubbled curve his chin.

“No one says things like that, really,” Zayn points out. Long fingers and strong hands cup his jaw, lead him into an angle that lets Liam kiss him softer – slower and more practiced. Less tongue and more teeth. Careful, melting bites to Zayn’s bottom lip and then his chin.

Liam _savors_ , nurtures and nourishes. He doesn’t let Zayn fade into the fire, not yet.

“ _I’ve_ used that line before.”

Zayn and Liam, they cocoon themselves, rut against each other because they know how. Their breath mixes while they laugh, light and not loud enough to break the sensual serene they’ve mixed into the room. Liam’s nails bite into Zayn’s hips, drag towards his spine until he’s palming Zayn from the back. “I’ll be sure to never say it again, then.”

James is offended.

Zayn is still turned on.

He can’t properly describe the sound that erupts from his throat when James slides his legs out from their jumbled mess of limbs and drags wet, wild kisses on the length of Zayn’s cock. He pushes both Zayn and his mirrored self backwards to give himself more room.

He can feel Liam, hot and hard and pressed into his back. Zayn’s mind falls to the sensation of James around his dick, sloppier than Liam – less adept but just as enthusiastic.

Liam pushes Zayn’s face away, disallows them to share sighs and pants, wants Zayn to look down. Wants him to see who’s making him shake in Liam’s arms. Zayn feels like he would need heavy machinery to lift his lashes by now, but Liam encourages him, curls around him and breathes into his neck. _It’s okay, you’re okay._

“’S like watching ourselves in a mirror,” Liam says with his hands on Zayn’s belly, re-drawing his old tattoos like it’s a lazy Sunday morning and his baby brother – by twenty-seven minutes – isn’t running smooth hands over Zayn’s tense thighs, hovering near his balls, cupping them. All while Zayn rides the waves, rolls his hips, _likes it_.

Liam is calm, patient with lingering lips at the nape of Zayn’s neck as if James isn’t letting him fuck into the tight heat of his mouth. He looks up, James does, and Zayn thinks he might see _Gemini_ hiding in the brown of his eyes. “Touch him, Zayn. Don’t be afraid to touch him.” James doesn’t look away, Zayn can’t close his eyes. Liam opens his mouth wide, clamps down on the thick of Zayn’s throat and drags a finger down the crease of his ass. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

_He jumps._

Zayn can’t help it, gets caught in the flurry of dots prickling at his skin, slides his fingers through James’ hair – it’s shorter than it’s supposed to be, closer to the scalp. The air doesn’t work right up here, this close to heavenly destruction, and Zayn’s choking. Gasping on air when he lays a hand on James’ cheek and feels himself go in and out – in and out, in and out, _in in in_ – so fucking good.

Liam’s hands get tighter around Zayn’s hips. Rocks and gravel line his throat as Liam watches them together, an envious murmur that Zayn can feel pulsing through the ends of his fingers.

Zayn gets it, understands, and so does James. He leaves Zayn leaking, bobbing in his mouth and so _so_ close to the edge, so close. All so they can take Liam and put him in James’ place. He goes easy, legs falling open in invitation to anyone who will answer.

“I love you,” Zayn has to say, because crawling into his space isn’t enough this time. His lips need to do more than kiss; Zayn speaks in jerky thrusts while James watches on—loves to watch, and Zayn thinks somewhere in the back of his mind that he shouldn’t be surprised—but he lets them have this moment. Lets Zayn swallow the worry in Liam’s harsh breaths. “I love _you_ , Liam. I do. I – _I love you._ ”

Liam nods, finds Zayn with his hand and squeezes, holds his hand in a fist while Zayn pumps his hips. _This is tonight. We’re only three for the night. When the sun comes up, you won’t be able to see the star anymore. Enjoy it, it’s just tonight._

James though, he’s trembling for attention with his own cock painfully hard in his hand, hips looking for some kind of friction; some _touch._ Zayn would gladly have done the honors, traded places with his circled fist and mouthed him while Liam played the spectator role. But, _but but but_ , he watches where Liam’ ankle crosses James’, patches of skin touching so ordinarily – _catastrophically casual_ – and it makes Zayn’s heart beat wildly in his chest.

Liam’s perceptive, follows Zayn’s line of sight and hoists him higher for a kiss. “You’re _spoiled_ , you know that?”

Liam mouths at Zayn’s shoulder, their bodies rubbing together in a tease, and Zayn doesn’t know how much longer he can hold on to this – this feeling. “You two have – you’ve been…together?”

They can hear James beside them, around them somewhere, the slide of flesh meeting flesh. Zayn imagines his head thrown back, flashes of white on the tint of his lips.

“I have, yeah. _We_ have. It’s not what you think, we don’t just – there’s _always_ other people.”

Liam’s nails scratch Zayn’s thighs on either side of his body, pads of his fingers smoothing the down on his legs and parting with a silent gasp. Zayn clenches, wants him inside, wants to be catapulted into the air again – shot into the stars. “I wanna see it. Wanna see you _touch_ him. Then I want – _Liam_ – I want him to. I want him to _fuck me_.”

Liam’s fingers stutter at Zayn’s cleft, and Zayn empties a litany of curses into his ear. Hands tugging at the bed of hair under his fingers, Zayn leans to plant his nose in Liam’s chest. Tongue caught with tiny hairs and the pebbled texture of the nub between his lips. Zayn blows, feels Liam bend underneath him and James touch his ankle, _waiting waiting waiting_. “Excited, Li? Turn you on thinking about your baby brother taking what’s yours? Want him to open me up around his cock before I ride yours? That get you hard?”

“ _Fuck._ ”

“Say yes.” Zayn kisses below the raise of Liam’s adam’s apple, bites into his neck. “Touch him so he can touch me. Then I can touch _you._ ” Zayn stops moving his hand, laughs into Liam’s throat when he bucks, not close enough to come, hard with nothing to fuck into. “ _’S like a mirror._ Really fucked up mirror, babes. Do it for me.”

The swiftness in which Liam moves Zayn, flips him on his back and rolls over beside him to tug James into his lap – should be off-putting instead of electrifying. It’s both.

“You heard all that?” Liam scoots up, leans against the headboard with James between his legs. Zayn finds the lube, leaves them to it so he can coat his fingers and explore his body while he watches.

“It’s a quiet room,” James says. And Zayn loves how they fit, naked and positioned with ease, like they’ve touched a thousand times before. Because they have, and that makes Zayn—makes him _crazy_. Zayn’s not there, not in James’ mind when he looks at Liam like a challenge. “So are you gonna kiss me brother? Or are we gonna have an unsatisfied custom—”

Liam doesn’t waste time being gentle, and Zayn wants to cheer, _yes Liam, show him. Show him Liam._ He pulls James in by the back of his neck and his brother’s fingers land over the thumping in Liam’s chest. A place Zayn thought only he knew, but of course – _of course_ – James knows to fit his palm just over the beating tattoo of Liam’s heart.

“Talk too fucking much, you know that?” Liam kisses him on the neck, lips puckered over James’ pulse. The urgency bleeds from James’ fingers; they push Liam back as far as he can go, crash him into the wood and attempt to unspool Liam with relentless kisses that make Zayn slide one and then two fingers into himself.

Watching them connect, Zayn feels like he’s intruding. Liam’s yelping, cursing into the cavern of James’ mouth about _teeth and nails_. When they rip away from each other, Zayn thinks the universe might just shift at the tear of such a beautiful alignment.

James bends at the waist, moves down his brother’s abdomen. Liam looks at Zayn, reaches for him with heavy lashes and a lazy smile as James traps his jumping hips with hands that mirror his. Only James’ hands are softer, less calluses – lacking character. They both watch James sink pink, swollen lips over the wide length of Liam’s cock, hands pulling down the weight of his foreskin as he swallows him.

“Zayn,” Liam calls. “Fuck, Zayn. _Zayn._ ” James grunts with something Zayn can’t identify, but something inside his own chest tightens.

Zayn tries to write a poem about the wings of Liam’s lashes, compares them in his mind to the fluttering of butterflies, but he comes up short. Then, just then, when James does something – _sucks, licks, flicks_ – and forces a hard roll of Liam’s hips. (There’s a petulant heat in Zayn’s chest, because he doesn’t share that same abandon with any soul lingering on this planet.) But he finds his metaphor there in Liam’s eyes. He gets to see them – dark and beautiful – just for a second, and then they’re gone, hidden behind floating lashes and veined lids. _Eclipsed._

Liam’s moan is barely heard, too high to catch many chords in his throat. “Beautiful,” escapes Zayn’s lips, and he’s twisting his own fingers, hand leaving the open cage of Liam’s palm to skate appreciatively over the dots of James’ spine. _Thank you, thank you,_ he says with broken-syllabled groans and shaky fingers. “So fucking beautiful.”

What eventually pushes him over is that look again, fucked out and gorgeous when he looks back at Liam. The purest thing, most honest thing, he’s ever seen. Liam in a realm of bliss they’ve never visited together, alone in this bed.

His eyes shoot to the side, James’—mouth full and hands busy—and his arrogance manages to subside long enough for him to nod in understanding.

He holds Zayn there, Zayn’s hands already returned to himself, hips lifted in the air, hand twisted with his fingers inside himself. James palms Liam’s balls, makes his brother’s thighs twitch hard enough for Zayn to tremble himself. Zayn says it, Liam’s name, over and over and over again because he doesn’t know how else to connect to him from here.

_I’m here. I love you, too. Love you. The only thing I ever want to see in the sky, I can feel you._

Liam fists hard hands in to the crop of James’ hair and fucks up. James doesn’t let Zayn turn away. Lets Liam thrash painfully into his mouth while he chokes, gagging and sucking while Zayn waits for the stars to shine in bright, dotted patterns when he finally closes his eyes. He’s waiting for the veil to drop, keening until _fucking finally_ James draws back with come around his lips, not enough for Liam’s release, but it’s enough. Spit and jizz around his lips, Liam’s foreskin pulled back, head tapping against the blush of James’ swollen lips.

Zayn comes with a shout.

_Ka-boom._

He falls then, journeys through constellations and planet patterns with the image of Liam being pleasured by someone who shares all his outward attributes – the same person if Zayn slits his eyes and tunes the universe out.

Liam saves him, of course he does. Comes to Zayn’s rescue and gathers his lifeless limbs, unleashing kisses to the bones of his collar. Zayn collapses in the cloud of sheets while Liam moves down his body to lick. James is there, swallowing down hisses Zayn makes because he’s so _sensitive_. Every touch rattles his heart and curls his toes.

“He loves you more,” James says right on the edge of Zayn’s brain – everything is so fuzzy – he can barely hear it with Liam’s careful lips kissing the inside of his thighs. “When he fucks my mouth, like he did just now – he’s never pretended it was someone else. _Never._ Never searched for more hair on my head or traced tattoos on my arms that aren’t there. Liam’s never yelled someone else’s name with my fingers inside him.” His fingers pinch at Zayn, jerk him further into reality. “You’re _lucky._ ”

Liam’s out of reach, can’t hear James tell him stories that make Zayn’s heart fit right in his chest again. He’s lifted Zayn’s hips, left his cock alone and spread Zayn out on his back. “Relax for me, sweetheart. Always so out of it when you come, so sated.” He breathes over Zayn, like it’s any possible for him to be more pliant. “Shh, Zayn. Arch for me. So pretty, fuck. Fuck, _come here._ ” 

James is petting him, his cock soft now. Zayn can see it, feel it where James sits beside him. He reaches, opens his body at the same time because Zayn wants to _give_ something to both of them. He doesn’t have much left.

“Don’t.” James stops him, snaking Zayn’s wrist and guiding it to meet Liam’s open palm. Now he’s tethered to something that won’t let him float away, safe. “Pay attention to him. Li’s putting on a show for you. Gonna make you feel better.”

His fingers track around Zayn’s hair and if he looks later he can find the indent of soft lips in the matte of sweat against his forehead. _There’s a rare sighting of two moons in one night._ James finds the tension in Zayn’s soul, physically located across from his heart. “Liam’s gonna make _this_ go away.”

Unaware of his brother’s celestial transformation, Liam mutters to himself. “Absolutely wrecked for me.”

Zayn cries out when Liam touches him with his tongue. James moves the hair stuck to Zayn’s forehead. Fuck you, fuck fuck fuck, Zayn can’t speak – is two planes above them, even with the anchor of Liam’s hands. “Could just slide into you like this. Fucked out and goddamn _pretty._ ”

Gone is the pressure of his tongue, replaced by a wet finger in its place when Liam props himself on one elbow. Then another finger, and another, and his tongue is finding its place flicking around Zayn’s rim.

“Shh, shh,” they tell him. But fuck them. _Fuck them_. Zayn shouts to the ceiling, yells while Liam stretches him open with crooking fingers, rubbing his thumb along the stretched ring of his opening. Zayn arches with it, pants and squirms when Liam finds that spot, again and again and _again_.

“Do it,” is all he can say with the experimental crook of his tongue. Zayn weeps, thrashes and doesn’t want to be fucking _held_ anymore. “Please – do. _Please_ do it. _Li,_ I—I need you, Li.”

Zayn is hard, partially, but the blood’s just running slow, sloshing sluggishly to his cock because he can _feel it_ in his toes. He could come again, easy. “Fuck me, Liam. Please _please,_ fuck. Me. Fuck me.”

“I thought you wanted James to fu—”

“You. I want you.”

Zayn’s awkward in moving himself, fucking pillows and twin brothers, but he makes it. Links himself to the brightest heat in the room. Liam tumbles back and Zayn thinks it’s a major accomplishment – knocking the moon right out of the sky. Zayn traces the want dripping from Liam’s face, swirls his fingers high on his cheeks and kisses his mouth.

There’s a flicker of confusion, but Liam’s not protesting, not saying no. Not denying Zayn anything, not ever. “How do you want me?”

Zayn doesn’t say, doesn’t know how to form words that aren’t, “You’re _so_ fucking amazing, so wonderful.” He kisses the paper-thin skin of Liam’s eyelids and breathes in the heady scent buried in his neck. “Never met someone with such a big—”

“Dick,” James supplies.

“ _Heart,_ ” he corrects, and Liam laughs at Zayn’s frustration, because that’s what lovers do. They laugh and love and _cherish_ , and Zayn has to screw his eyes shut and pinch the skin of his wrist to remind himself that _this is real._ “Such a big heart,” he says again. “Let me do this for you.”

Zayn’s sweaty and tired and alive, and he’s got James’ hands on his hips. With his help, with matching fingers around his hole, Zayn positions himself over Liam. They’re a mess of legs, Zayn’s over Liam’s, James between Liam’s, behind Zayn. “I can feel you,” he sputters, clenching. He’s not all the way down, because Liam’s trying to give himself some control, make sure Zayn’s enjoying his slow-burning torture. “ _Please_.”

He’s not above begging, he isn’t.

James is pushing Zayn down, both brothers working in sync to make Zayn bite into the padding of his lip. “He’s _fuck_ —he’s sucking me in.” But they’re teasing his entrance and Zayn’s about to _shatter._ “It’s okay, _fuck._ ‘S okay, got you. Got you, Zayn.”

Finally, fucking finally _fuck,_ Zayn’s sinking down, the squelch of lube around Liam’s cock making them collectively moan.

Liam bats away James’ hands, moves Zayn on top of his cock, full and trembling and taking all the breath in the room into his lungs. James palms Zayn’s erection, exquisitely moving with Liam’s thrusts and the cant of Zayn’s hips.

“How does he feel?” James slips words into his ear. Zayn can feel the stretch in his thighs, drops his hands to the square patch of hair in the middle of Liam’s chest. Liam can’t keep his eyes away from their connection. _Now you see me, now you don’t._ Zayn’s being pulled in all directions. “Don’t remember how he feels, tell me. _Tell me,_ Zayn.”

Zayn palms his own stomach, rotates his movements while the skin of his abdomen flexes against his fingers. “Fuck. Big, full. _Fuck,_ Liam.”

James skates his nail in a ring around Zayn’s nipple. “Eloquently put,” he hums, helping Zayn sink and rise around the blunt of Liam’s cock.

Zayn doesn’t catch his breath, not until its smoother and the burn is the closest thing to celestial sensations he’ll ever experience. _Out of this fucking world._ Zayn squirms, curses because he can’t move like he wants to with James so close behind him.

“Fuck this,” Liam’s remedying that, pulling Zayn down completely to his chest. Everything that isn’t bright and glowing and _home_ fades away. “Can’t fuck you how I want like that.”

Zayn’s high in the sky again, dropped into damp sheets with Liam still inside of him. Hard and pumping, hips moving with Zayn’s thighs high around his back. His arms are behind Zayn, looping around until his hands are bleeding into the flesh of Zayn’s shoulders.

“Fucking love you,” There’s a sting behind Zayn’s eyes, a prickling that has nothing to do with pain and everything to do with beauty. The bones in his collar creak under the pressure of Liam’s fingers. He doesn’t untighten even when Zayn whimpers into his cheek. Keeps rutting deep and hard, sending Zayn across the sheets until he’s dangerously close to being fucked into the headboard.

Liam slows when Zayn _can’t breathe_ , pants rough in his ear until he can get Liam to look at him long enough for their lips to share the same space. He tells him, with chattering teeth and a heavy tongue that _he’s not going anywhere_.

What they have that no one else does, is this. Knowing how to calm the storm. Anyone can stir the beast, but who can bottle the sun?

“How did I get this lucky?” James asks somewhere behind them, but Zayn doesn’t let Liam look, steals his glance and keeps him _right there_.

“Stay with me. And Liam changes, paces himself with slow rolls of his hips that make Zayn’s heels press marks somewhere near the bottom rung of Liam’s spine. “Stay right here, Liam.”

_It’s not time for the sun to come up yet, not time for you to go away. Stay here_.

His angles change, Liam takes away his hands and the rush of blood back to the newly vacated crevices of Zayn’s skin make him glide higher. Zayn’s cock is between them, and Liam’s lifting himself to touch Zayn. Gives Zayn the power to fuck himself down on the pulse of Liam’s prick.

Fast fast fast now, because Zayn wants it to stop. Needs the ache in his chest to _go away_. Wants to erupt high enough in the sky to catch a glimpse of Liam before he goes.

“There’s nothing I love _more_ than you— _fuck_. _Nothing,_ Zayn. _No one._ ”

They don’t come together, but it’s very few strokes in between. Splashes of white stain their bellies first. Then Zayn is in Liam’s lap, assisted by four hands, rocking and bouncing and _shuddering_ on Liam’s thighs. He does that until Liam’s making that face – that _closer to heaven_ one that Zayn’s never seen before tonight – and Zayn’s bottoming out with Liam’s cum inside him.

Zayn stays there, coaxes the rest of Liam’s orgasm from him with Liam’s teeth embedded in the muscle of his arm. James’ hands travel over Zayn’s back and Liam’s peppering apologies into the broken skin near his shoulder.

They’ve burned out, an explosion of galaxies that Zayn wishes he could see from afar. He’s sure it was _beautiful._

Liam takes Zayn with him, wipes their stomachs with a sheet before he’s snoring with Zayn wrapped around him. They make sure James is nice and content across the bed before they close their eyes, because they’re kind. But they’re also exhausted, so when James wiggles covered fingers and winks, hand drifting towards his mouth, they groan before falling into their sheets.

Zayn catches him, though. Hears him move from the bed when Liam’s breathing is even beside Zayn. He watches James pull on trousers, because the stars must go away at some point, right? Make you wonder if they were ever really there in the first place, or if you’re only seeing something beautiful because the moon is hiding and the sun can’t come out to play.

“Liam’s a sure man,” he says to Zayn, laughing when he catches the warm tint high on the bones of Zayn’s cheeks. “Stupidly confident, my brother.”

Defensively, Zayn tightens his arms around Liam’s middle. “Why do you say that?”

“If I had you, I would never share.”

Zayn smiles to himself and closes his eyes. Kisses blindly to Liam’s skin. “Guess it’s good you don’t then, huh? Have me.”

He doesn’t open his eyes until he’s sure James is gone, and after that he screws them shut even tighter. Zayn wakes up with Liam when it’s light out. And more than ever, he appreciates the warmth of the sun gracing them through the slots of their curtains.

**Author's Note:**

> I suck at endings, sorry. Hope you enjoyed it!!
> 
> Tell me what you think! 
> 
> find me on [tumblr](http://www.ittybittymickeys.tumblr.com).


End file.
